


a cheerful sense of opportunism

by poalimal



Series: 🏴☠️ tropes ahoy! R76 edition 🏴☠️ [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fic in the Time of Quarantine, M/M, Modern Notions of Celebrity, One Night Stand, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal
Summary: Everybody has their dry spells.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Series: 🏴☠️ tropes ahoy! R76 edition 🏴☠️ [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759780
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	a cheerful sense of opportunism

Gabe is ~~three~~ two-and-a-half cigarettes shy of a nervous breakdown when he finally gets the confirmation email from their team in India - they got the updated artwork in time, they're sending everything for printing and binding before everything shuts down for Diwali next week. 

It's 1.16AM in LA. Gabe pumps his fist in the air outside in the alley and makes a little whooping noise. He calls his sister to celebrate (reflex). She's changed her message again; now, instead of that one Joan Baez quote, it ends with: 'Believe in the power of sleeping early on a school night.' Cute. He resolves to send her a box of fruit and pretzels and shit at school. Maybe a sunflower. Pencils, too, probably... and chalk... and markers... 

Rocky's always stressing about supplies. It's gonna be a big box. Gabe finishes off the other half of his cigarette and makes a note on his phone. Emails Leela and Jeff the good news. 

He doesn't feel like going home.

He shuts everything down in the office, turns everything off, locks everything up, and scrolls through Instragram idly as he walks towards his car. He should really unfollow his ex, he thinks. Ah - but then who would appreciate all of Dante's thirst traps? Besides the-- he counts --16 other needy bottoms who've already liked his most recent pic. Hm. Those actually aren't great numbers for a day-old thirst trap. Gabe sends a pity like.

He needs to get laid.

He finds himself in an old club downtown he used to sneak into in high school. Well. It used to be a club. Now it's kind of like a speakeasy bar, except it's got even less personality than every other half-assed speakeasy spread out all over LA. Everything's all gold-red woodsy and shit - probably the only hip hop or reggaeton they'd ever play in this kind of place would be, like. _Acoustic_. Ahh. It's a good thing he's in too good of a mood to think about it much.

He orders a burger 'cus the kitchen's about to close. The fries are perfect. The burger's just aiight. The whiskey is top-shelf. He drinks-- less than he'd like, more than he should. The table next to him is kind of loud. He glances at their table, then at the bar around them, and realises he is easily the oldest person there. 

Getting old is a blessing, he thinks, smiling ruefully. Still - best not to tempt... his own morbidity. He leaves a generous tip, calls an Uber and waits outside. He decides right then and there that he's taking a half-day tomorrow and picking up his car. Not taking no fucking Uber into work ever again, no sirree.

Seconds after he sends an email to Leela, he gets around 20 notifications: Dante went back and liked every single one of his art posts from the past four months. Oh Jesus Christ.

'Hey, uhh. Hi!' Gabe looks up. A random guy is staring at him. He looks--familiar... 

Oh, he must be from inside the bar. Is he talking to Gabe?

'Are you talking to me?' Gabe asks. This isn't his first time at the Bluetooth rodeo.

'Uh. Yea.' The guy continues to stare. What is he, a serial killer?

Gabe purses his lips. 'Ok, just so you know, I know Aikido. Alright?'

The guy perks up in interest. 'Wow, really?'

Gabe's good mood is beginning to stall. Where's that fucking Highlander? Oh Jesus Christ - Ciaran is circling the block now. 'No,' he sighs, 'no, not really. I don't have any cash on me, though.'

The guy perks up further. He's a very perky-looking guy. Good god, Gabe feels old. 'Ok,' says the guy. 'Can I bum a cigarette, please?'

Gabe relaxes. Way to bury the lede there, man. He provides a cigarette and a light, while Ciaran gets progressively further away. The guy is clearly not a smoker.

'Don't force yourself, man,' Gabe says, while the guy's coughs peter out. 'If I could give up smoking--'

'--can I come home with you?' the guy says in one long, wheezy rush.

A Highlander screeches to the curb. 'Is either one of you Gabe?' Presumably Ciaran shouts at them.

Gabe sighs. 'Yea,' he says. 'That's me.' This is a bad idea. It's a really bad idea. He glances at the guy and sighs again. 'C'mon, then.'

'Oh - great - cool,' says the guy, going very red. He says in the car that he realises this is kind of weird, and he really doesn't do this, he's honestly not that kind of guy, not that he thinks _Gabe_ is that kind of guy, either, ha-ha-ha, he was just out with some industry friends, god, _industry friends_ , listen to him, he sounds so fucking Hollywood, you know, he never actually wanted to do this, become this guy, he was in the Peace Corps, he wanted to make a difference, change people's lives! You know? But Gabe's probably heard all this shit a thousand times before, right?, struggling actor makes it big and wants to know what it all _means_ , ha-ha-ha; he knows he's a cliche, really, and so when he saw Gabe just sitting by himself and smiling and eating a burger, he decided he would do something unexpected--

'Like, take me home and fuck me,' Gabe confirms. 

The guy startles. 'Oh,' he says, 'I thought you were asleep.' Dude must be pretty used to the sound of his own voice, huh.

The sky is purple from pollution. The lights on the road pass on overhead. 

'I'm awake,' Gabe says. He falls asleep. 

He blinks awake in Alhambra on the guy's shoulder. Ciaran wishes them a good night while Gabe is still trying to wake the rest of the way up. His brain feels all fuzzy. One thought is clear: this is a really bad idea. The guy bumps up impatiently against Gabe's back while he's opening the door to his house. Sucking kisses all over his neck once they're inside. Groping his way up Gabe's chest and playing with his nipples. Faltering once they're on Gabe's unmade bed and Gabe's jeans are tangled up around his ankles. 

Gabe manages to kick his jeans off, goes for his boxer briefs, and notes the uncertainty. 'You ever done this with a guy before?' he asks, pausing. 'Like, touched a dick in a non-jokey way? Tell me before you freak out.'

The man's eyes rove all over Gabe's body. He doesn't look like he's freaking out - but you can never really tell with those kind of guys until it's too late. Wow, this is a _staggeringly_ bad idea. Gabe's dick starts going soft, which is great, really: he loves it when he gets in his own head.

The man wets his lips. 'I'm not freaking out,' he rasps. He leans down and mouths at Gabe's dick through his briefs. Gabe's hips jerk unexpectedly; the man looks up at him with a gleam in his eye.

'That doesn't answer my question,' Gabe says. His voice is-- not as steady as he would like. 'I could probably... pick you up and throw you outta here. If you tried anything funny.'

'Right.' The man hums, peels Gabe's briefs off. Rubs his nose all up and down Gabe's dick like it's covered in fine perfume. 'Cus you know Aikido.'

'I--' Gabe is sweating. He didn't think it was possible to be this confused and this turned-on at the same time. 'Is that a joke? Are you joking when my dick's right in front of you?' 

The man grins. He looks older, in the warm light of Gabe's bedroom lamp. Less sculpted. Gabe likes him more. 'Wouldn't dream of it,' he says - still joking! - right before swallowing Gabe all the way to the hilt, without choking. Well. He doesn't choke. _Gabe_ chokes. This isn't gonna last long. He hasn't had sex in about six months.

'Fuck, uh, fuck,' Gabe babbles, in about the same number of minutes, when the man is once again showing off his impressive breath control, 'I'm gonna - gonna--'

The man holds his hips down when he tries to pull out, relaxing his throat and taking Gabe even deeper.

'Uhn, uhn,' Gabe's voice is embarrassingly high, 'fuck!'

And thus: he comes down a stranger's throat. Said stranger leans up over him and kisses him down into the bed. 

He is very good with his mouth. 

'--you're still wearing your shirt,' Gabe grumbles, coming up for air. The guy's button down is buttoned-down, true, but it's still hanging around his shoulders. 'Why'm I the only one fully naked.'

The man smiles. Ahh - _there's_ Mr Hollywood. 'Gotta let go first,' he says. 

Belatedly realising how hard he's holding onto the guy's shirt, Gabe lets go, trying not to stare at the bob of the man's dick between his legs, thick and heavy, with a perfect curve to the right. There's no way Gabe could take all that tonight - not without a lot of prep. Who knows if the guy even knows how to use it? 

The guy chuckles, low and a little mean. Gabe flicks his eyes up to his face. 'What do you think, baby?' he murmurs, stroking Gabe's thighs open. 'You want my dick inside you?'

Gabe's mouth goes dry. Ah... maybe he'll take a full day tomorrow. 'Maybe just the tip?' he says. His voice cracks. The guy smiles.

* * *

Gabe wakes up in sunshine, birds chirping - sky cloudless and blue - lamp knocked over from when he'd accidentally kicked it. He simmers in the memory, recalling - his whole body a single moment of delicious agony. The guy's still passed out next to him. Gabe sits up and looks at him. He's drooling. Stubbly, now. Snoring. Cute.

The guy starts to wake up. There must be something left of last night's good mood still left in Gabe, because he keeps staring - he smiles when the guy opens his eyes.

'Hi,' he says.

The guy blinks sleepily. He smiles back, stretching out into Gabe's space. '...Hi,' he says. He looks around at Gabe's bedroom, at his weird art spread out all over the walls. Sighs, sounding somehow relieved. 'I actually meant to make you breakfast.'

Gabe laugh-snorts. 'Before you snuck out, you mean?' 

'Not gonna sneak out,' the guy says, pulling Gabe down into his arms-- for a kiss, it turns out.

'Morning breath,' Gabe warns.

The guy smiles. 'I don't care if you don't.'

'I care a little,' Gabe says, a little bit later, when the guy is sucking sharp, biting kisses up his stomach and chest. 'I think I have an extra to-o-othbr-USH!' He calmly clears his throat - the guy stares up at him. 'Under the sink.'

The guy's teeth grazed a nipple. He looks like he wants to devour Gabe. 'I'm not letting you out of this bed until you make that sound again,' he declares.

'Toothbrush,' Gabe says, indulgently, kissing him again. 'Toothbrush, toothbrush, toothbrush. Lemme up.' He pats him lazily on the shoulder.

The guy does, grumbling. Gabe ignores him happily. He throws on an old shirt of Dante's, helpfully slung over the back of his headboard, and pulls on his house boxers. Jeff called them his Holey Terrors once. Gabe goes out into the front room, idly planning to start prepping for breakfast. His legs and lower back are sore as fuck - he feels like he could run a marathon. Hypothetically.

The guy's jacket - tossed over the back of Gabe's couch sometime last night - is buzzing like crazy. 'I think someone's calling you,' Gabe calls over his shoulder, opening the door to grab the newspaper.

A solid wall of paparazzi awaits him on his lawn. A beat of silence--

\--and then chaos: 'Mr Reyes! Mr Reyes! How long have you and Jack Morrison been lovers?' 

Gabe slams the door shut, heart pounding hard in his chest.

Well. Fuck. There goes his good mood.

The guy - _Jack fucking Morrison_ \- jogs out into the living room wearing Gabe's boxer briefs backwards. Gabe feels like he missed the last ten steps on the stairs going down and landed on his head.

'So, uh,' Gabe points backwards at the door with his thumb, trying not to get hysterical, 'what did you say your name was?'


End file.
